


The Boy Sleeps.

by Bunnywest (orphan_account)



Series: The Boy. [1]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Slavery, Dark Peter Hale, Hurt No Comfort, Loss of Virginity, M/M, Nipple Piercings, Non-Consensual Body Modification, Painful Sex, Rape, Rough Sex, Sexual Slavery, Slave Stiles Stilinski, Underage Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-23
Updated: 2017-07-23
Packaged: 2018-12-05 21:14:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,341
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11586327
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/Bunnywest
Summary: The boy sleeps with his back against the bedroom door.He doesn’t know if it’s locked, he didn’t check to see. He knows better. He sleeps against the door so he’ll know when Master comes back.





	The Boy Sleeps.

**Author's Note:**

> OK, so you know how Peter in my other fics is not really a bad guy?  
> This is NOT THAT PETER. This is Dark,with a capital D. and wrong, and I don't even know where it came from, but fair warning, it's basically a sex slave fic with all that entails. There is no happy ending, unless you're Peter.  
> So y'know, please don't read it and they go "Wow Bunny, that was some messed up shit", because I KNOW, you guys, trust me, I know!

The boy sleeps in a padded cage, with the other humans around him.

There are ten of them in this cage, grouped by age and sex. The cage says 12--16 M on the door.

He sleeps when he can, and he ignores the others. There are no friends to be made here, he’s just waiting to be sold. Sometimes they take him out, and someone turns him around, looks him up and down, maybe pokes a finger in his ass. The boy remains silent – he learned that lesson early.

 

* * *

 

The boy sleeps on the small bed in the separate room, away from his cage mates in preparation for collection tomorrow.

A man had come, and taken him out, and poked and prodded him, and made a pleased noise, and then he’d reached between his legs and pulled hard on his sac, and the boy had keened and sobbed at the pain, unable to stop himself.

The man had said “Well don’t you sound delicious?” and nodded to the assistant, and the he’d been taken and hosed and scrubbed, and had a tube put in his ass, and had his teeth brushed, and been tattooed on his upper thigh with a small circular mark that says P Hale.

Then he’d been put in here and told to rest until tomorrow, and so he sleeps, and he tries to ignore the feeling of dread in the pit of his stomach as he wonders if P Hale is the man who hurt him.

He might not be, he reasons. Sometimes the wolves send someone else to select their slaves.

He sleeps, but it’s broken and filled with dreams of pain and screaming.

 

* * *

 

 

The boy sleeps for too long, and rough hands shake him awake and drag him from the room. A leash is clipped to his collar, and leather cuffs are put around his wrists.

Something big and hard and painful is shoved into his ass, and a sob catches in his throat. His handler slaps him for making noise.

The man comes into the room, takes the lead, and drags him out to the car without a word. He stuffs him into the back seat and clips his leash to an anchor point on the floor. The boy remains kneeling for the short drive to his new home.

Upon arrival the man drags him in the front door, and down a hallway to a bedroom unlike any the boy has seen. The things in it scare him, but he has no idea why.

The man pushes him down onto a bed with his legs spread, and pulls the hard thing out of him. The boy quivers in pain, but stays silent.

“Asked for no plug, idiots can’t get anything right” he mutters.

He walks to the bed and squats in front of the boy. He looks him in the eye, and tells him “Hello Stiles, I’m Peter, but you’ll never use that name. If I ever let you speak, you call me Master, understand?”

The boy nods.

“Now since those idiots have stretched you out, I can’t wreck your ass like I want to. Tell me, how old are you? Permission to speak.”

“Thir – thirteen, master”.

“Hmm. Older than I thought, but you’re small enough that I can live with it. Do you know why you’re here? “

The boy nearly speaks, but at the last minute settles for shaking his head.

“I like small boys, Stiles. I like to fuck them. Has anyone told you what that is?”

Again, he shakes his head. He has no idea.

Peter smiles a shark like smile, and tells him “Don’t worry, you’ll find out soon enough. It won’t be tonight, because the idiots stretched you out, and I want you tight, so you get one more night before I take you. Say thank you Master”.

“Thank you Master “parrots the boy, though he has no idea what he’s thankful for.

“Tonight, I’m going to make you pretty” the man tells him.

He brings a tray over to the bed. The boy doesn’t know what most of the things on it are.

Peter rolls him onto his back, and tells him “Stay still, or else”.

He spreads warm liquid over the boy’s groin, and then applies strips of cloth and starts to efficiently rip the hair out. The boy whimpers, but he stays still.

Peter stops for a moment to tell him “Don’t keep quiet. Cry all you want to. I like it when you make noise.”

And then he rips a huge swathe of wax and hair out by the root, stripping the newly grown down from the boy’s sac, and the boy screams loudly.

“Yes, exactly like that” Peter instructs him, and applies the wax to his armpits.

After the waxing, he pokes needles though the boy’s nipples. He isn’t gentle.

Then, when the boy is reduced to a sobbing wreck, he turns the lights off and walks out, saying “Sleep now”.

 

* * *

 

 

The boy sleeps with his back against the bedroom door.

He doesn’t know if it’s locked, he didn’t check to see. He knows better. He sleeps against the door so he’ll know when Master comes back.

Everything aches, and he’s hungry, and he needs to pee.

But somehow, he sleeps.

He wakes when the door opens outwards, tumbling out of the room.

Peter scoops him up and carries him to the bed. He has food with him, and feeds the gruel to the boy. He takes him into the bathroom and watches him shower and perform his ablutions. He pokes at his ass again, and seems satisfied.

“Nice and tight again, excellent. Let’s change that” he tells the boy.

The boy crawls onto the bed and lays on his back as directed.

He feels better. He’s eaten, and washed, and the stinging from the waxing and the needles has faded. It’s better than he’s felt in a long time.

He lays on the bed quietly. He doesn’t know what Peter meant by fucking him, but nothing could be worse than the waxing and piercing, surely.

 

* * *

 

The boy sleeps in the middle of the big bed.

Sleeps, or is unconscious – Peter doesn’t care which by now.

He slams in and out of his lax body, grunting with each press forward, watching as his length slips in and out through the mess of blood and come that’s oozing out.

The boy had shrieked and begged and cried at the first brutal thrust, trying to wriggle away, but Peter had held him down, teaching him his place and fucking him relentlessly.

He hadn’t tried to get away again after Peter had threatened to pierce his cock then and there if he didn’t stop moving. He just lay there crying as Peter ripped his ass to shreds.

After the first time, he had instructed the boy to say “Thank you Master, I liked it”

The boy had sobbed and stuttered through the phrase.

Peter had grinned cruelly and said “Oh really? If you liked it, we can do it again” before flipping the boy and taking him from behind, driving in deep and fast just to hear him scream.

The boy had cried all through the second round, and the third, sobbing out _nonononono_ , but when Peter took him roughly again for the fourth time in the early hours of the morning, he barely opened his eyes before closing them again and turning his head to the side.

And now, as he finishes for the fourth time, Peter thinks that just laying there like a dead fish is a little ungrateful, he’s doing all this work and getting no response, so he grabs onto the boy’s new nipple piercing and pulls hard enough to make it bleed, stretching it out from his chest and tearing the flesh.

The boys eyes snap open, his body convulses, and he starts sobbing again.

Much better.

Peter’s very pleased with his new purchase, very pleased indeed.

 

* * *

 

 

 The boy sleeps very little, now. He mainly just passes out from the pain.


End file.
